Willing Spirit, Willing Flesh
by Laurielove
Summary: While working alone in the library one stormy night, Hermione senses she is being watched. But even she is unprepared for who, or rather what, that person is and how she reacts to him. Hermione/Salazar Slytherin. One-shot. M content.


**This fic came about after a suggestion from the inspirational Seyfert who requested an against the wall fic with Salazar Slytherin. This developed into a bit more than a usual against the wall fic. It is a one-shot, but it is far longer than usual. I so enjoyed writing this for a variety of reasons. The thought of Hermione having a bit of a time of it with The Original Slytherin was very inspiring. **

**Head over to facebook and like my page - I post a lot of news, links and fun stuff. Would love to see you there. The link is on my profile page near the top. x**

**Anyway, back to this. Thank you so much, Seyfert! xxx Hope you and all the readers enjoy it.**

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><p>The portraits of the four Hogwarts founders hung prominently on the Grand Staircase of the castle. Students passed them every day on their way to and from dorms and lessons. For someone as attentive to detail as Hermione Granger, it was surprising she did not glance up at them more often. She did, of course, recognise each of them, but she could not say their features were particularly familiar, apart perhaps from one, who glowered down on the students from an elevated position of menacing influence. But that particular founder was not one Hermione felt predisposed towards, so when the green eyes sparked and the dusky lips curled as she hurried by, she always resolutely tried to ignore it. Tried, but did not always succeed, it must be said.<p>

Her time at Hogwarts, after eight years in her case, was coming to an end. She had been the only one of the trio who had returned to repeat their missing year, and, she could only admit, things had simply not been the same. She was ready to move on. Schools were for children, and Hermione had left her childhood so far behind she could scarcely recall those naive days before witchcraft and war.

Hogwarts, returned to institutional routine since the final battle, was now constricting her. She longed for her own space, her own possessions, freedom, expression ... sex. That was certainly limited here.

Perhaps it was the trauma of war, perhaps it was a search for fulfilment, perhaps it was just her, but Hermione needed sex. It surprised even her when her libido had bloomed almost insatiably after the war. Ron had benefitted for a while, but they had grown apart and moved on separately after a few months. She had considered finding someone in her year, but the boys seemed insipid and characterless compared to the sort of man she craved. Still, she kept her contraceptive charms up-to-date in the hope that someone may crop up.

More often than not, however, she simply retreated into her own mind and soul. And tonight, while most of her fellow students were giggling and gossiping in the common room, she had once again taken herself off to her sanctuary, the library, enclosed in solitary study of the more obscure texts. She now had special permission to work alone in the Restricted Section and would while away time poring over documents and parchments detailing darker practices. The library would empty by supper, but she would stay on. She had been entrusted to lock up when she was finished.

Hermione knew her methods were only a balm, not a cure. Intellectual distraction took her mind off her body's needs. Running her hands through her hair now as her eyes blurred over the ancient script she was trying to absorb, she sighed. Only a few more weeks and she could be free at last to appease herself as she wanted.

The weather had worsened during the course of the evening. A brittle tree branch began scratching at the window, along with a now frantic side-drum rat-a-tatting of rain against the panes. Wind moaned morbidly in the eaves, and Hermione huddled into herself. She was not one to be disturbed by the elements, but on this night something was at odds. Several times during the course of the evening she had looked up suddenly, startled, sure she had heard something nearby, sure she was being watched. Her eyes strained to detect movement or a presence, but she could not see a thing. She considered leaving, but cursed her weakness and settled down again to work. The minutes ticked away as the rain and wind continued to torment the castle. Hermione assured herself that that was what had disturbed her, nothing more.

After another hour or so she glanced at the clock. It was half-past-midnight. She couldn't justify staying any longer. Gathering the books quickly, she took them back to the side room reserved for the most controversial texts of the Restricted Section.

As she was placing them back in their appropriate spaces, there was a slight, soft brushing sound behind her. She spun around, her senses primed. Nothing.

Slowly, Hermione turned back, reaching up to replace another book. There was the noise again, louder this time. She spun faster, grabbing for her wand and holding it tense and straight before her.

'Who's there?'

She could see nothing, although there were shadowy alcoves in the room which could have concealed many dark secrets.

'Come out! I know you're there.'

Now there came another noise – what sounded like a long breath out. And then a voice spoke, a low voice, male, smooth and deep, measured and controlled. 'I have watched you, Mudblood.'

'Show yourself!' she declared again, immediately enraged. 'And don't think that term holds any fear for me now, you bastard! I'll report you for abusive language.'

There was a low chuckle, now from behind her. She spun again, her flesh cast with a prickling mixture of fear and excitement.

'Report me? What an amusing little thing you are, Hermione Granger … unsettled at last. It takes quite a lot to stir you. I know. As I said, I have been watching you.'

'Then I'll report you for harassment and stalking as well.' Her eyes darted around wildly, but try as she might, she could see no sign of a tangible presence in the room.

'You are too clever for your own good, Mudblood. I acknowledge you put many purebloods to shame. But not this one.'

'At least have the decency to let me see you, you coward.'

There was silence for a time. The only sound was Hermione's own rapid breathing. She was becoming undeniably more agitated at her inability to discern the individual. And then, at last, he spoke again.

'Very well.'

She waited, her breath held in anticipation, her eyes searching for him.

And there before her, emerging from the darkest recess, as if formed from the shadows themselves, came the figure of a man, tall, dressed in flowing, velvet robes over an elegant tunic. Hermione's eyes were drawn up the svelte form to his face and she met with eyes of a piercing translucency. He had a finely hewn jaw, and high cheekbones which ran down to a thin faint moustache and beard, lending him an air of elegant distinction. He looked around forty. Above the brilliant eyes were dark eyebrows, one of which was cocked in appraisal of Hermione. Combined with all this was an edge of sinister smoothness which immediately mesmerized her.

She was speechless. But it was not the undeniably handsome elegance of the man which rendered her mute. Hermione was gawping for entirely different reasons. As the figure drew closer her incredulity grew. She could see straight through him.

He was a ghost. And she recognised immediately whose ghost.

Swallowing hard, she fixed her eyes into the limpid orbs of the phantom and spoke his name in steady but hushed awe.

'Salazar Slytherin.'

'You know your history well.'

'I pass your portrait every day.'

'And I pass you every day. And sometimes I linger.'

She still held her wand out before her. Hermione had been used to the ghosts of the castle since the age of eleven, but the spectre before her now caused a shiver of apprehensive excitement which gripped and would not let go.

'I have never seen your ghost in the castle before.' She heard her own voice quavering and tried in vain to steady it.

'Magical ability continues in some ways into death. I have the ability to render myself invisible if I so choose. And that is precisely what I usually do. My presence could prove to be ... incendiary otherwise. But as I am, I can pass anywhere I wish, whenever I wish.'

He had said those words with a teasing hint of wickedness. It caused a twist in her belly. 'Anywhere you wish?'

The ghost of Salazar Slytherin smirked. 'Yes. At any time.'

'I had no idea your spirit still haunted Hogwarts.'

'I prefer to remain unknown. It affords me a certain advantage.'

She averted her eyes. She may be able to see through him, but under his gaze, she herself felt virtually naked.

'Oh yes, my beautiful Mudblood, I know all the dark, delicious secrets of the castle. Including yours.'

'So why not haunt it properly? I am sure you could think of many things to unsettle the status quo.'

'How do you know I haven't?'

'Because things that have happened here have been explained.'

'You judge well. Indeed, my spiritual condition is such that I may be able to witness, but I cannot affect things. Not unless …'

'What?'

He did not answer her query. 'Lower your wand. I will do you no harm. My words should have assured you of that.'

Hermione did not move for a time, keeping her wand determinedly raised, then, slowly, as she stared into his eyes, she brought it down and tucked it away.

'Are you the only one of the founders' spirits here?'

'Yes. The others … moved on.'

'But not you?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

He sneered. 'There were those who considered my time on this earth to have been squandered. Committing me to spirit form was seen as retribution.'

'A punishment for your twisted and warped ideals?'

He glided closer in and tilted his head to stare into her, causing her to step back in alarm. 'Have you not learnt to bite back that tongue of yours?'

Hermione swallowed but continued undeterred. 'You started off as a great man with many great plans, Salazar. But you bent and abused them and left a legacy which we still fight today – until recently, at least.'

'Oh, I know all too well of the battle which took place here last year. As much as Tom Riddle's principles appealed to me and were a noble endeavour to keep my ideals alive, I cannot say I was enamoured of his methods. It pained me greatly to see the castle I helped build brought to near destruction.

'I have reconciled myself to the fact that my quest to purify the wizarding line will never happen. And I will admit, if all Mudbloods were like you, even I would reassess my standards. Centuries of watching and waiting have given me a certain amount of tolerance and enlightenment. You, Hermione, have proven impressive in many ways. And you have grown into a woman of considerable beauty.'

She knew she was blushing. Even in his translucency, the rake of his eyes down her body sent a shimmer of expectant lust through her.

'Why say that?'

'It is the truth. I can only look, Hermione. Look ... and appreciate.' His deep, silken voice was utterly beguiling; it snaked around her, almost drawing her closer to him.

'And how closely have you been looking?'

He smirked. She stared into him. His form was darkly, hypnotically attractive, she could not pretend otherwise. And those eyes pierced her through. His mouth, an enticing curl of lip, twisted up alluringly as he surveyed her. The cheekbones on his sculpted face were sharp and powerful and for a moment she believed she could reach out and touch.

_Salazar Slytherin._ One of the greatest wizards that had ever lived. The founder of Hogwarts, talking to her, staring into her, admitting to watching her. She was more alight with anticipation than she could remember for an age.

'Did you take an interest in other students?'

'There have been some over the years, but you ...' He glanced down her body again. '... have been most diverting.'

She held his eyes steadily. 'And does your study of me extend to night time?'

He smirked again. 'When the mood takes me.'

'That is depraved.'

A low chuckle swaggered over to her. 'What more do I have? You must allow an old ghost his amusement. Oh yes, my dear, I have watched you. Watched you in the dark of night when you believe yourself to be engulfed only in the mask of solitude and shadows, watched as desire creeps over you, watched as your body rises to seek out pleasure and release, when all you have are your own thoughts and your own fingers to appease you. How I longed to be made flesh again … to reach for you … to touch you and pleasure you …'

While he spoke she could look at nothing but him. She was drawn almost inexorably towards him. It had been so long since she had had anyone but her to ease that burn inside. And now, this great wizard, this extraordinary man was expressing his desire for her.

But he was not man.

'Stop it.' She stood quickly and stepped away. 'You! Salazar Slytherin – why would you watch me? Why would you want me, a Muggle-born?'

'I find you a fascinating paradox. The greatest witch here and yet the one least deserving of it, Mudblood.'

His words raised her wrath. 'I have fought for years against being called that. I have suffered and seen my friends die to prevent people like you from using terms like that. Don't you dare use it on me!'

Pulling out her wand, she pointed it again at him.

He simply laughed his deep, measured laugh once more and swept around behind her to whisper in her ear. The air shivered as he passed by. His ghostly light cast a blue glow across her pale skin as he moved in closer. Hermione stood, her breathing heavy, ashamed to acknowledge the true nature of her feelings.

'You cannot use your magic on me. You know that. Stupid girl.'

Her anger brimmed over and, turning quickly, she instinctively brought up a hand and slapped it towards his face. But as her hand made contact with the phosphorescent glow, his skin seemed to condense, to form into pure flesh before her eyes, just for a moment, before just as soon reverting to the translucent shimmer of his spectral form.

Salazar gasped in, shuddering.

'What happened?' Hermione muttered, confused.

Salazar's eyes widened triumphantly and he stared into her so ferociously it almost pained her. 'I knew it. I knew it would be you. Such fire, little Gryffindor. And all that from someone so unworthy, so lowly and pathetic in magical stature.'

'I will hit you again if you speak to me like that!'

'Do it then! _Do it!'_ He swept towards her powerfully, his radiance bristling through him. 'You did it to him – the Malfoy boy. He has more pure magical essence flowing through his blood than you could ever dream of and yet you treat him with disdain and he is shamed by your prowess and skill. And, I readily concur – he deserved it. Such fury flows through those veins of yours, doesn't it? Such passion. If you had been in my time I would have had you, girl. I would have had you time and time again until you screamed your pleasure uncontrollably. I would have taken you to my bed and together our desire and lust would have surpassed all. Yes, I would have had no one but you, even you, even a Mudblood.'

Rage and passion poured from her. Tensing her arm powerfully, she slapped him hard again. Her palm passed through him, but once again his skin became opaque and fresh afterwards and this time seemed to endure.

He was staring in wonder. His own hand rose tentatively and seemed now to come into contact with real flesh.

'Yes, yes ... more, more you little Gryffindor bitch. Let your anger out. You have as much hatred inside you as I ever did. Show me.'

This time she brought the back of her hand up and it sang across the other side of his face. But almost immediately as it connected the glow shimmered into real skin stretched across bone and muscle.

'Ha!' He threw his head back and laughed exultantly. 'Now I know what Mudbloods are to be used for.'

With a roar of fury, Hermione struck him once again and immediately his flesh became real and warm and smooth and solid. His face was now practically whole and human before her. She stared. It was the most malevolently beautiful face she had ever seen. At last her incredulity overrode her anger, anger which he had deliberately baited, knowing that it would render him flesh and bone again.

'What …? What's happening?'

He was breathing heavily, touching his face in amazement. 'Corporal manifestation.'

'What?'

'It happens. Only when there is an overwhelming passion between two: a spirit and a living being. Passion, anger and desire – you know its power. That passion ... that lust is rendering me whole again through your touch.'

'I … But I …'

He reached out his hand, still spectral in form. 'Take it. Hold it.'

Hermione knew she shouldn't, but could not help herself. Her blood pulsed fast round her body and she reached out to grasp the fingers he extended to her. As she touched them they too became solid and firm, strong. She gripped them and continued, stroking up his arm now with languid wonder, delighting in the muscles which formed as she held them.

'What am I doing? I can't do this. I can't make you real again. Not you, not you ...' But her words belied her actions. She couldn't stop.

'It will fade. It cannot last.'

'What?' Immediately she was disappointed. Despite the turmoil of feelings lurching within her, she knew she wanted him. She was in the process of bringing back a man – a magnificent man – from the dead and now he was to be taken from her again?

'I wish it were otherwise, but this will last only a few minutes. But ...'

'Yes?'

'If I pass through you completely ... my entire body will be manifested.'

She stared at him, his grave features unfeasibly handsome. In the still dimness of the isolated room she wanted him more than anything. Salazar Slytherin. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted any man.

'How long would it last?'

'Only a few minutes. Longer if I …'

'What?'

He held her in his eyes. 'If, once I was manifested entirely, my body were to enter yours.'

'You mean ... sex?'

His lips curled up. 'I believe that is how it is referred to these days. I know how much you lust, Hermione. If you did not want me, this would not have transpired as it has. _Do it._ Do it for me for this short time. Do it for yourself.'

She turned to him, her face as fierce as the lust now raging through her. 'You would _do it_ with a Mudblood?'

'I think, ironically, that is the reason it is working. Passion and paradox, Mudblood. And pleasure beyond imagining. They say the passage of the spirit through the living being is pure ecstasy in itself.'

She stared into him, breathing so hard her chest hurt. His eyes, the colour of the clearest emeralds, did not flicker from hers. His hair hung thick around his head, as deep and true a black as she had ever seen.

She could not dispute it. Her thighs were already damp with expectation; that crawl of lust in her belly would not leave her alone. And here was one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived. A wizard she had nearly brought back from the dead. The situation made her exultant, triumphant, and helplessly in lust. Her mind buried the vituperative words he had just hurled at her; her body and soul demanded him. She took a step out to stand before him and, extending her arms to the sides, Hermione waited.

With a grin of dark delight, the ghost of Salazar Slytherin began to glide towards her. He gained speed, his face now twisting with ferocious determination, and then he was upon her. His spectre moved through her and as he passed through she drew in a rattling, gasping breath of shocked awe. A great chill raced into her blood; a wave of frozen air took hold of her body, right into her bones, but almost immediately it grew into outrageous heat, rippling and shuddering through her. Her breath was pulled from her and her eyes widened in epiphany; she was euphoric. It was as if her whole body was caught in a sudden, cripplingly beautiful orgasm. Waves of sensation poured through her, coursing through her body as if in sexual ecstasy. She juddered with overwhelming erotic delight.

It was clear he had felt the same. Slytherin gasped in desperately as if air was rushing back into lungs made whole at last, and released a roar of triumph.

For a time they both stood, almost unaware of the other after the experience. But then Hermione turned to him, her wonder and curiosity forcing her to focus, and she watched, transfixed.

Before her eyes, Salazar's translucency became denser and darker and his flesh solidified. His robes thickened and became whole, and his long limbs flexed and moved like a true human's for the first time in centuries.

Salazar Slytherin stood, panting heavily, staring down at his new body, touching and holding it, almost with reverence. And then he raised his head and looked across at her. Hermione stared back, an expression of bewildered delight on her face.

'Thank you,' he stated simply.

'That was ... like nothing before. It was ... incredible ... indescribable.'

'I want more. I have little time.'

She stood, unable to move, spellbound by the very potent body across from her. He was taller than she'd realised, and clearly lithe and toned. She longed to touch him and finally took a hesitant step in.

'I do not have long,' he reiterated.

She stepped right up to him. 'Then ... here I am.'

Hermione slowly placed her palms flat on his chest. Immediately, he sucked in a breath and she felt his chest push out against her fingers. His robes were smooth and soft and warm. So warm. Looking into his eyes, she moved her hand under his outer robes and undid two buttons on his tunic. Then she slipped her hand inside and touched - touched heated, hard flesh.

'You are so hot.'

'I am new.'

Hermione moved her hand over the skin. It was remarkably smooth and tactile. Her fingers delighted in the touch as if they were discovering something entirely unknown.

And then his own hands came up and cupped her face, gently at first, studying her features and brushing his thumbs over her. But she soon felt a tightening of his grip and he moved his head down, closer and closer to hers.

Salazar Slytherin kissed her. His lips were warm and soon opened to slip his tongue into her mouth. Hermione opened hungrily and allowed him to taste and savour her, granting him her own questing tongue. Tearing himself from her mouth after some time, he slipped down her throat.

'Take your Mudblood, Salazar ...'

'Not Mudblood … Woman … skin and body and flesh and heat … Woman …'

'Take me.'

His hands, large and firm and strong, curled around her waist and pulled her brutally towards him. Hermione ground against the length of his body. His muscles were taut and hard under her. Ripples of lust pulsed through her, compelling her to draw his head down to her again and plunge her tongue hard into his mouth to absorb all he was. He did the same, holding her head hard, forcing her mouth wider open with his thumbs and devouring her, his teeth scraping across her lips in his attempt to taste.

Centuries of thwarted desire now came pouring from him and this transmitted itself to Hermione who was aching with need. She pushed his robes from his shoulders, desperate to feel his body and skin.

'Want to see you, want to ...'

He helped strip off the beautiful cloth of his robes and tunic rapidly and they fell to a puddle on the ground. His torso was pale and long and so tightly toned that she moaned aloud with its sheer beauty. The flesh, pristine and fresh, compelled her to plunge her mouth to it to lick and taste and nip and suck.

Slytherin threw his head back and groaned, long and loud. She ran a tongue around the tight bud of a nipple and he gripped her head hard, holding her there. Hermione revelled in the flesh hardening on her tongue and bit down. He hissed with delight. 'The other, the other ...' She repeated her actions on his other nipple, the soft dark hairs on his chest tickling her as she worked him.

He was now left only in his breeches, long leather breeches which extended to the floor, tapering into buttons at his ankles.

His own hands were fumbling for her clothes and she helped tear them off rapidly.

But then she had to feel, and pressing her body against him she found the desperate pressure at his groin, a pressure she longed to release.

She brought her hand down and rubbed along the leather straining out against him.

A groan caught in his throat. 'So long … do you know how long it has been since I have been able to feel ... since I have had touch.'

'Want to see you, want to feel you and taste you, Salazar ... let me.'

She undid the ties of his breeches. He wore nothing underneath. Immediately, he burst out from between the parted laces. There was the most magnificent cock she had ever seen. Hermione's body shivered with anticipation and she kissed him hard and deep again in pleasured thanks.

And then she took it in her hand. This time he practically roared. 'Yes! Hold it hard, girl. Hold me and work me.'

Hermione spat thick and heavy onto her hand and began to ply and squeeze and pump the rigid flesh of his thick, long cock.

For a time he simply let her work him. He stared down at her hand gripping and smoothing over him, twisting a little as she curled over the head then down again to the base.

Keeping eye contact she gave at the knees. His breeches were still on, his muscled legs holding them tightly up; his cock needed only the gap between the laces for its freedom. As she dropped to it, she noted the thick vein running up the left side, the glistening drop of lust seeping tantalisingly from the tempting slit. Her tongue came out and, with the slightest touch, she let the moisture seep onto it. As always, that first taste of man's salty desire fired her irrevocably. The man sensed it and strong hands were suddenly gripping her head, pulling her towards him.

'Gods, I cannot recall the last time I was in a woman's mouth. Open, girl.'

If Hermione resented his sudden grasp for dominance, her desire quelled it. She gaped her mouth and let him push his cock into her. As the plug of warm male flesh filled her, her eyes fluttered shut. He tasted so good and fresh and smooth. Her tongue swirled around that unique pliant hardness of the head, devouring the moisture oozing from him. But this man clearly wanted control and if his time on earth was limited, she would let him take what he wanted. Holding her head still, he began to push in and out of her mouth, not slowing, a slight grunt caught in his chest with each plunge forward. She would suck her cheeks in around him when he entered her and drag hard off as he pulled out. She was used to controlling the pace when she went down on a man, but with him, he could fuck her mouth exactly as he chose.

But then, with ferocious determination, in a sudden switch which thrilled her, his hands relinquished her head and gripped her shoulders. Pulling his cock out of her mouth, leaving a trail of thick, thirsty saliva between the slit and her bottom lip, he pulled her to her feet.

'So much ... I want so much. Let me feel you now. You, your flesh.'

Without hesitation, Hermione pressed herself hard against the wall and drew her left leg up to the side, taking his hand and guiding it towards her. She was now clad only in her knickers and their damp heat was the first point of contact for his expectant fingers. She watched his every reaction. His eyes widened and his breath hitched. Hermione let out a little gasp of her own. Salazar's fingers walked up the satin and slipped down inside with just enough languor to build her tension.

'You are the most warmth I have felt, witch.'

'Touch me ... touch me properly.'

He hesitated, only to prolong his own anticipation, but then his finger moved again and he glided down into the searing wetness of her hungry flesh. He exhaled. Hermione felt that flitter of a man's touch on her clit and craved more. Her jaw was tense with need and her eyes pleaded into his.

Curling the finger down more, each delicious incursion into her causing his face to open in wonder, he edged it up into the tight opening which so craved him.

'Feel … feel …' she murmured.

Salazar brought his forefinger to join the other and pushed harder and deeper up into Hermione, causing her to jolt with surprise.

For a while he simply felt her, gliding his fingers around her cunt in delirious circles, trying to absorb all the sensations of woman once again.

She let him, and when his fingers slipped out, he brought them up to his mouth, glistening with her juices and, with eyes closed, licked them clean. She reached over a hand and stroked his hair.

'That taste … I remember at last … but yours is the sweetest …' And with that he sank to his knees, pushed open her legs sharply, and pulled her sex apart with determined fingers. And then, with a sound which stuck in his throat in glory, he plunged his mouth onto her and feasted. Her clit was dragged onto his tongue, and with a nimbleness which amazed her he danced over it, then sucked hard, then licked and teased, then pulled it tight yet again. Her head flew back and her fingers came down to curl through the long thick strands of his black hair, which slipped, silken and glossy through them. Hermione knew she was moaning steadily as her pleasure grew.

Every so often he would relinquish his hold on her clit to dip his tongue up into her and suck out the constant flow of lust which dripped into his mouth. And while he supped, his hands had reached around and parted her arse cheeks. A finger now teased and explored the tight entrance there, running around it, occasionally pressing up the merest fraction and causing it to welcome and grip him with a thrilled spasm.

Hermione came hard, almost taken by surprise, flooding his mouth, her body juddering onto him, pressing down, smothering him momentarily. He stayed there, kneeling before her, licking up every drop of her pleasure.

But immediately there had to be more. Instinctively, she reached for his cock and placed a hand on his back, pulling him towards her.

'Come inside me properly. Be inside me ... Salazar.'

Slytherin stood suddenly, his body so real before her she moaned aloud and threw herself back against the wall. He was upon her almost violently, pinning her hands above her head at the wrist in one of his. His other hand pushed her right leg further out then pulled it around him with strong fingers, fingers that bruised as soon as they held her. Pinning her right leg to his hip, he relinquished it to grip the thick, rigid shaft of his leaking cock, pumping it twice in his fist as if to reinforce its potency, and placed himself at her dripping hole.

Hermione could barely breathe, let alone speak. 'Make it last, Salazar. Do it.'

The hand at her wrists now came to her chin to grip, holding her head so tight she could not move it. His face was ferocious dark beauty. Gone was the wonder of discovery. Now this man, made flesh again after centuries of fleeting memory, needed entry, needed impaling in this woman. He would not let her slip from him.

His fingers closed tighter just under her chin, and Hermione felt the rush of constriction. She could still breathe freely, but his need to pin her in his grasp sent a dangerous thrill through her, ending in the heavy pressure of need at her cunt, the throb of longing at her clit.

She felt it, the nudge of cock. Only a fraction. He was going to drag this out. He stared into her, his green eyes blazing with determined certainty.

_Push._

She opened for him.

_Up._

'So hard ...' she murmured.

_In._

She was stretching.

His nostrils flared.

_Hard._

Deeper. _Deeper._ Flesh into flesh. Hard into soft. Solidity enrobed in tactility.

_Within. _

Surely that was all. She was fuller than ever before. She could feel her cunt groaning with wonder at the sheer enormity of cock inside her.

_Push._ She gasped. So long. _Too long._

But he didn't stop. Salazar Slytherin's lips curled into a sneer of determination and he pushed up yet again, so hard against her cervix it hurt. And just then his fingers tightened again, tilting her head up more. Her eyes could only look at him now through hooded lids.

And then he was in her entirely.

_Full._

And he breathed out, long and slow.

'Whole again,' he slurred, low and rich and satisfied.

And then he started to withdraw. At once she felt the sweet pain which had accompanied his entry receding, but immediately she longed for it again. _Slytherin._ She associated the name with pain, and now being fucked by the man himself should hurt. She wanted it to hurt. Just enough to reinforce sensation. She longed for it.

He looked down now to see his cock emerging wet and thick from her greedy cunt. Then, fast this time, he pushed back in, right up again, right up to press that dense, rigid cock-head against her. He turned his eyes back to hers and once again gripped her neck hard, his fingertips on her throat that little bit tighter. She opened her mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Pulling back, he caught her g-spot, nuzzling on it for a moment. Her eyes rolled up.

'There. So receptive, little Gryffindor.'

Withdrawing almost entirely, Salazar quickly pushed up again, stopping to cajole more from that perfect place. It caused her breath to hitch audibly, and he chuckled, that darkly deep chuckle which resonated through his broad chest.

Her fingers scraped along the tight muscles of his shoulders and she swallowed as pleasure began to grip.

But then he moved again, more powerfully now, thrusting hard into her in long, deep strokes, each time causing that throb of welcome pain.

She barely noticed; her skin was laced with the heated tension of near-ecstasy and his hard flesh dominated her mind and body, but the fingers round her were tightening yet again, not enough to cut off her air completely, but enough for a rush of dangerous excitement to mount in her.

'I have you, I have you, I have you.'

A chant now accompanied his harsh, insistent onslaught, her cunt overwhelming him with the brilliant pleasure it was giving. Her nails scraped along his back, and he grunted with the surprise of the stinging scratch, ploughing violently into her, causing her back to buckle and her head to arch away from him. He forced it back insistently.

'What do you call this?'

She couldn't speak. Her eyes were glazed and her mouth hung slack.

'Speak to me, Mudblood. _What do you call this?'_

'Fu ... fucking.'

'Is that it? I'm _fucking_ you? _Say it.'_

Still his fingers were at her throat, but she forced the words out for him and for her. 'You're fucking me.'

'How am I fucking you, little Gryffindor?'

'You're fucking me so hard. So hard and so good.'

His cock continued to plough in and out of her. Her legs were curled around his waist and she rose and fell along the wall in time with his brutal thrusts.

'Salazar Slytherin ... fucking me ... fucking me.' Her eyes closed as pleasure built.

'Look at me, Mudblood. Open your mouth.'

She did with a gasp, and a long finger immediately pushed into her open lips. She closed on it and sucked hard, wringing her tongue around it and prompting another groan from him.

And then sensation tore through them both and they were coming, desperate and fast, pleasure released after time had denied it. Salazar exploded, come pouring from his spasming cock deep into her. Hermione came so hard her eyes flashed into momentary blindness. She dragged in air through her restricted throat only to find her orgasm rampaging through her more strongly than ever. And still he was erupting into her. As he came, a sound caught between this world and the next broke from him: a long disembodied cry of release. He pushed up and brought her feet off the ground so that she was held only on his cock.

They stood, joined, pressed against the cold wall, his hand still on her neck but slack now. He slumped his head against her shoulder and simply breathed, deep, life-giving breaths of satiation.

She could feel his cock still crammed into her. It was plugging in the excess of his seed, but even then some escaped, forced out by the sheer volume of come and cock inside her. She felt the warmth slithering down her. For this moment, he was as real as any man.

After some time she moaned, not intentionally, but their position had become untenable and she ached.

He nestled into her neck and muttered, 'Hermione ... I have fucked you hard and good, have I not?'

She laughed, stroking his hair. 'Oh yes, my Salazar, that was about as hard and good a fucking as I shall ever have.'

And with that he slipped from her, prompting come to seep down her thighs in thick, warm rivulets. She clamped her legs shut.

Picking up his robes only, Salazar pulled them across his broad torso, leaving it exposed beneath them.

He looked to the floor and held up his hand. _'Facio cervicalia.'_

Immediately an array of cushions appeared on the floor beneath them. He turned to her, extending his hand, 'Come and lie with me.'

'So you can still do some magic,' Hermione observed.

'I can now that I am real.'

'Aah – time to cause mayhem and confusion then,' she smirked.

He pulled her down and laid her upon his chest, stroking her hair. 'No ... no time at all. And I will not squander one second of being with you.'

Hermione traced a path over the smooth warm skin of his torso. 'How long do you have?'

'Only a few minutes more, I should imagine. Once our bodies part, the enchantment will fade ... and so will I.'

'Salazar ...'

He smiled at her.

'It was good, wasn't it? Despite who we are, it was very very good.'

'Oh yes. I would not have had anyone else. I could not have had anyone else.'

She laid back down, curling her leg over him. 'But can't we ... do it again?'

'No. Such deep magic can only be affected once. How I wish that was not the case.'

She tightened her leg around him and kissed the hard nipple which sat just under her cheek. 'Me too.'

'You have asked me all along how I could be with you, but you have not told me ... why would one as you, with such high morals and principles, lie with me, the originator of all you abhor?'

For a time she simply continued drawing those slow spirals over his body. Then with a sigh she spoke.

'Passion and paradox, Salazar. After all I've been through, I don't think I will allow myself to settle for anything too ... predictable. I don't know. Perhaps I'm punishing myself.'

'For what?'

'For everything being so bloody easy.' She sniffed out a laugh of incomprehension. 'I don't know. Life has been too straightforward since the war. After all that suffering ... I think perhaps I need to push myself, stretch the boundaries. When you've already seen death and destruction and war and peace ... and all before the age of twenty ...' She glanced up with a smirk, '... is a little desperate sex with a 500-year-old prejudiced pureblood ghost too much to ask?'

He grinned and reached his head down to kiss her parting lips.

'And what now for you, little Gryffindor?'

'I have a job awaiting me in London, at the Ministry. A good one, I suppose. I'm ready for it.'

'I would expect no less. So you see ... you would not be around here for much longer anyway ... and my spirit cannot leave the walls of the castle.'

She leant to him and kissed over his skin again. Salazar inhaled deep and pushed against her pliant mouth. But as she kissed she felt him growing cooler. Hermione opened her eyes. His flesh was fading before her, becoming less opaque with every second.

'Salazar!'

His lips curled up in a rueful grin. 'You see ... I did not have long. But believe me ... you have given me enough pleasure to last another 500 years. Now, Hermione, kiss me ... kiss me one final time.'

She moved swiftly up to his head, which was still whole and complete, and kissed him with a searing passion, gripping his head to her, plunging her tongue into him to possess as much of him as she could in the dying seconds of his existence.

But before he could fade from her completely, he pulled back and stood to move away. Salazar, now gliding, now as translucent as she had first seen him, moved back towards the shadows he had emerged from. He stared hard into her eyes the whole time.

'Hermione ... remember me ... as I will remember you.'

'I will remember ... always.'

And with a smile, his spirit became entirely ghostlike once again, and he slipped back and vanished from her into the darkness.

Hermione stood quite still for a time, staring at the place into which he'd vanished. And then, with a deep inhalation of breath, she turned, muttered a cleansing charm over herself and dressed. Then, picking up one of the cushions and clutching it to her as a memento, she vanished the rest. With a final look into the room, Hermione left, closing the door behind her, and returned to her dorm.

In five weeks time, she would leave the castle and all its spirits behind for good.

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh, you lucky, lucky thing once again, Hermione.<strong>

**What did you think of her latest encounter with the spectral Salazar? LL x**


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